


Lament for Iphigenia

by Acantha_Echo



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child punishment, Greek myth inspired, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Misunderstanding, Some vague past setting, Threats of Death, Whipping, Worship, brilliant roman, gods and mortals, he shines, nothing graphic in the violence, so much misunderstanding, stubborn roman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acantha_Echo/pseuds/Acantha_Echo
Summary: “You learn the name ‘Virgil’ before ‘Roman’.In truth, you learn many words before fully understanding the name Roman.”Roman fundamentally misunderstands his purpose in life.Luckily, things still somehow turn out okay.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	Lament for Iphigenia

**Author's Note:**

> Hooookay. So this. Um. Is late. I wrote this for Madeline for the Sanders Sides Secret Santa on tumblr! It was due... a while ago. I tried to fit in all your requests, we shall see how it went. Real life has been crazy, but I can only apologise from the bottom of my heart for the time it has taken for me to get to this point. And it’s a two parter because when have I ever been able to stick to my word goals?
> 
> This is something a little different from me, it’s wholly in second person. It's a smaller, more intimate story, so the whole cast isn’t here. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this... and let’s hope our boys all manage just fine. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos feed my soul. Tumblr gonna tumblr, come say hi @theeternalspace

** **

### To Aulis

** **

You learn the name ‘Virgil’ before ‘Roman’.

In truth, you learn many words before fully understanding the name Roman, such as; boy, twin, brother, duty, obey, god, chosen, no, sit, behave, focus. He is there before it all, even if you don't fully understand why. They speak over your head sometimes as though you are not even there. As if you can't comprehend the words. As if you are not hungry for knowledge and affection, for acknowledgement. It's in those conversations that you learn others words; priest, destiny, sacrifice, bound. 

Another word too, one that they whip you for repeating. A banned, secret word and you take it close, hide it in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind where the pain cannot touch. It is only in the middle of the night that you pull out the word - even then you only risk it in the early hours of the morning, when everyone else is fast asleep. The word tastes strange in your mouth, heavy, heady. It sends a thrill through you as you explore it.

Sometimes you can't help but wonder what the word husband actually means.

\---

You are five when they first catch you leaving flowers at the statue. He is your husband and although you still don't know what that really means, you know it is important, that being husband to Virgil is the most important thing about you. Everyone says so, your parents, other adults, kids you want to play with but are told you can’t. You’re too important, it seems, to be able to play. There are more important things you should be doing, although you don’t really know what. 

You think perhaps a husband is like a brother. Like twins, like love and that you will be friends with him when you finally hear him speak. You love your brother despite all the tricks he pulls on you. He is your only friend after all. Remus doesn’t care about any of the magic words, he doesn’t see the power, the beauty in them. You can’t help but selfishly be glad of that. You share everything else with Remus. Just as he shares everything with you. It is good, you think, for something to be different between them. To have Virgil for your own.

You do love Remus. Over and over again in your mind. There isn’t any doubt in your mind about that, no matter the looks people might give you when you say it. He might be louder than you, always full of ideas you think just a little bit weird, but you love him fiercy and would fight anyone who tried to say anything bad about him. Even though you don’t know how to fight - another thing you are too important to learn. You _want_ to learn, you are curious, desperately so. Eager to engage with the world, all the more because you aren’t supposed to.

Virgil is yours and you love him too. Because as wonderful as Remus is, Virgil is even better. If you are friends, brother, with Remus, if you want to protect him and look after him, then you must want the same with Virgil. More so, because you know it is your duty - as well as your desire - to be close to him. He has been one of the lodestones of your world for as long as you have had thought. Possibly longer. 

You think Virgil must be lonely, locked away in the temple. Flowers are simple, a small gift to let him know that you are thinking of him. That even though he might not be able to walk freely, you are still close to him. They are a promise as well. That you haven’t forgotten. That you might not yet understand but you know he is your future, your life, your destiny. You want that. You want him in your life. To be your life. 

You have been leaving flowers for as long as you can remember. But this time you are sloppy. Tired from a day of ‘lessons’. It’s mostly listening to a boring man read from a thick book. Then you are expected to be able to repeat back everything. It is so dull, and half the time you fall asleep mid lesson. You always get a slap for that. Today though. Today it wasn’t enough to just parrot the words back. He asked you questions as well, as to the meaning behind the words. You didn’t know any of the answers and so he kept you for hours longer than usual. 

You are late to leave your gift, not only that, but you are late for dinner. The thought of food makes you take risks, mind too full of questions to worry about stealth. What will your mother have made today? What new story will Remus have to share with you, a glimpse into a world you cannot enter? 

They catch you in the act. Flowers slip harmlessly from your fingers. A basic bundle, just ones you have gathered from the paths leading to the shrine. You don’t know what angers them more - that you have managed to slip into this most private of areas or that your gift is so small in their eyes. 

Now they know. They had wondered who had been defiling the temple with such petty offerings. You aren’t sure what ‘defile’ means, but it makes a fire fan strongly in your mind. You want to argue, want to yell. Virgil has never given you any sign that he doesn’t like your gifts. He isn’t just your God - as much as you might wish otherwise. He is the God of the whole village. If he was unhappy, wouldn’t he have given a sign to someone? You know you should be silent. It is what is expected of you. But they are insulting Virgil, they are saying he shouldn’t like your gifts, when he must like them. Of course he must, he is your husband. 

Your arguments do not impress them. 

They whip you hard enough for your back to bleed. Even at five, you think this is cruel, wrong, although you lack the ability to express why when pain is being rained down on your back. 

It is enough to make you cry, to curl in on yourself. They drag you home after what feels like eternity. Even then, there is no escape, your mother cries and refuses you food. Your father shouts and locks you in your room, without letting you clean your back. There will be no dinner tonight, no stories. 

It is Remus who helps. Remus who sneaks in through the window, his tiny body trembling as he carefully wipes your back, who hands you stale bread he was able to smuggle out from the scrap bin. 

Remus who whispers something you tell yourself you do not hear. This isn’t Virgil’s fault. And Remus _cannot_ hate him, not really. Those words were a trick of the mind, a last gift from the pain. You love them both too much for those words to have been real.

You dare not leave any more flowers after that.

\---

You are eight when they sit you down and explain just how special you really are. How you are destined for great things. You are to live and work in the temple. The temple! Virgil’s home. You haven’t been there since you were five. Your back still tingles whenever you think about that night. 

Still, you are so much older now. So much wiser. You are smarter than you had been. If you are allowed in the temple at last, then everything is going to change. Perhaps you can even start leaving flowers again. You can’t help but wonder if Virgil has forgotten you. Worst, if he thinks maybe you don’t like him anymore. You still talk to him at night, after everyone has gone to sleep. You slip out of your bed to lean against the windowsill once it's safe. There, cradled by the moonlight, you feel confident enough to talk. Oh, how you talk. 

Virgil is a God, and although it would be best if you could talk to him face to stone face, anything will do. He can hear you whenever you are. Such is the power of the Gods. Virgil isn’t the King of the Gods, but in your eyes there is nothing he can’t do. Listening to your stories is such a small task, one that he could do with no effort. You talk of your day, of the lessons you had, of a funny shaped rock you saw on the way home. Anything and everything, it comes to mind and you simply allow it to spill outwards, without any rhyme or reason. If you hadn’t already been promised to Virgil, you think you would have liked to have become a storyteller. Virgil is better though, he is always better.

You can’t even count the number of times Remus has found you pressed against the window, lulled to sleep by the sound of your own voice and the whisper of wind. He never tells on you, despite threatening every single time. 

Those talks help keep your faith strong, a flame that refuses to go out. 

It feels like an eternity since the last time you actually saw Virgil. You miss him. So many years have passed. Three whole ones, and to your mind that has to be the longest anyone has ever waited. Now though, now you are going to be able to go to the temple. No more waiting. Then they tell you more. Enough to make all those dreams and hopes shatter under the weight of their words.

The waiting is not over. Indeed, it has hardly begun. Not only thought, but you will never return here, that your home is to be the temple for the rest of your life. No more family meals. No more Remus stories. No more _Remus_. 

You cry. 

You are eight and everything you have wanted to do when you were finally big, is now not allowed, all your dreams of going to find him, to explore the world beyond the village, to even leave the village for a little while are all gone. It is your duty to wait, to remain and be a living statue to match the stone one that has been erected in Virgil’s honour. 

The snow capped mountains have always called to you, a whisper of hope that maybe if you climbed them, you would be able to see his kingdom. At the very least you would see the wildness, you would be able to experience all the sights, the smells, that you have only heard about. You would be able to depart on an epic quest of your own, the ones Remus sometimes tells you about. You want so badly to explore the world - but no.

They tell you that you can never leave. Not just the village. But once you step within those gates, you belong to the temple. That you can join in with the festives, but only in your role as a soul of the temple. Never to wander free once more. That your destiny is not husband in the way you had so naively believed. Virgil isn’t going to come and claim you. Not unless you are _very_ , very good.

There is a funny look on your mother’s face as she says that. Her nose all scrunched up, as if mid sneeze. Eyebrows drawn together, a puckered line on her forehead. She looks confused more than anything else. A tired sort of confused, the same look she gives Remus whenever he does anything bad. Why would she be looking at you like that now?

It is enough to make the tears slow a little. Something takes root in your mind. Fanned by the flame of your feelings for Virgil no doubt, watered by the look your mother is giving you. She doesn’t believe in you. Later, that will hurt. Right now, it only spurs you onwards. 

There is no doubt in your mind. Once the tears finally stop flowing and you can allow yourself to look forward to your new life, you know you will succeed. You are going to be more than good. No, you will be the bestest husband Virgil ever had. So much so that he will have no choice but to come and claim you, as you deserve. 

You hope Virgil likes things such as listening to the storytellers (he does), exploring new heights (he doesn't) and singing (it will grow on him)

\---

You are thirteen when you find out Remus is ill.

Adjusting to your new life is harder than you expected. You miss your brother, you miss every moment with him. Even the bad ones. There are many nights when you lie in the dormitory with the two other boys that have been chosen and wish you were back in your old bed. In your old room, with the patchwood blanket you would grasp between your fingers as you pulled yourself to the window. It is next to impossible to sneak out of bed here. The older priests have caught you more than once. The other boys have reported every time they found you asleep by the window. 

As much as you hate it, you can’t talk to Virgil at night. No Remus, no Virgil. It’s impossible to sleep, eyes dry as you stare up at the ceiling and miss what was. Many a cold, lonely night, you would have welcomed Remus leaving rabbit droppings in your bed. You miss him that much. It is like a physical ache in your chest. Something has been ripped out of not just your life, but your soul. It leaves you incomplete, a half person, scrambling for understanding, control, in this strange new world. Nothing makes sense anymore.

You try and tell yourself that things are better this way. After all, this is your destiny. This is what you have been waiting for all of your life. This is what you have longed for, the whole reason you sat through those endless lessons until you could recite every word of every story and lesson about Virgil.

So why does destiny have to hurt so much?

The two other boys are not as good as you. You become friends with them of course, or as close as you can get. The teachers say it is what Virgil would want, his priest husbands all getting along. They are to be your family in lieu of Remus - the slightest hint of rebellion crosses your mind the first time you are told that, along with the unspoken knowledge that he will always be your family. Still, for the sake of Virgil, you accept it as best you can. You smile and preen, you devote yourself to doing what you are meant to do. 

Most of the time.

Whenever you are left alone, you talk to Virgil. Be it in the garden as you tend to the vegetables, or in the chapel as you clean the stained glass windows. You mutter under your breath every thought that passes through your mind. A lot of the time you ask him questions. The stories might be burnt permanently into your mind, but there is so much about Virgil you still don’t know, so much left untold. How can anymore - but a God most of all - be content to be such a mystery? It only adds to his charm of course, the desire to know draws you deeper and deeper into the web of your own making. 

The sensible thing would be to stop. To give up your talks, your dreams. After all, you are not what you thought you were.

When has that ever stopped you? 

Once or twice, a priest has heard you. Never loud enough to actually make out the words, but enough for them to know you are saying something. You know better than to deny it, but you also know better than to tell the whole truth. Your back still aches from the last ‘truth’. 

When challenged, you merely claim to be repeating the tales under your breath. Worshiping Virgil in every moment, chanting his words for his glory. It’s a half truth. You are giving worship with every word, every breath. Just in your own way. It makes a flicker of nausea spread through your body, but that isn’t enough to stop you. 

Virgil doesn’t smite you for your tiny lie, so that has to mean he doesn’t mind. Perhaps even that he enjoys your conversations. 

He doesn’t ever answer either, but you have learnt to take what victories you can.

In the years that followed your move to your new home, it is Remus who keeps the connection alive. Remus who makes sure you can follow through on your desire to remain family. Remus who risks everything by breaking into the temple time after time. Rules have never been Remus’ strong point. He doesn’t cling to them in the way you do. They don’t ground him, but rather, the opposite. They are something for him to fight, to oppose. You know that you can never understand that point of view. Just as you know that it doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that Remus will pop up at the most random times, in the most random places. Once, he dropped out of the giant bell that is used to call everyone to worship. You still have no idea how he managed to cling to the inside.

It’s in one of these random meetings, when you are smiling and chiding him that his truth comes out. It starts off small. Just a throwaway comment that wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Remus insulted you, as he so often did, and, as you so often did, you threw one back. Light hearted bickering that rarely spilled out into something serious. It was merely what the two of you did. That day, his comment was about your sunburnt nose - you had spent too long in the garden the day before, distracted by your one sided conversation with Virgil. So you reply by pointing out that at least you have seen the sun. At least you don’t look like death with your white skin. 

You didn’t know mentioning his pale complexion would be such a sore spot. You didn’t know it was anything other than him simply not being out recently. You didn’t _know_. Part of you wishes you still didn’t.

Remus is very ill. The kind that you know you don’t get better from. There isn’t anything anyone can do, bar some miracle. The disease takes root, slowly at first. It creeps through the body like a nighttime invader. Every night it wraps itself a little tighter around its victim. It creeps through the blood, poisoning everything it touches. Day by day, night by night, it will drain your beloved brother of his energy, his life force. It will leave a shell, but no soul. It will leave no Remus. 

Your brother is a fighter. You know this. You know it means that it will delay the inevitable. He won’t give in without a fight. But you also know that it will be just that. A delay, a pause. A push against an ending that will come as surely as the sun rises in the morning. 

Your brother is going to _die_ , and there isn’t a thing you can do about it. 

You have hurt for so long that at first, another wound seems to hardly make a dent. It gnaws away at you every day, as surely as if you are the one stricken with a mortal illness. You are going to lose your brother. You are going to lose one of the two people you love more than anything else in the world. And when it grabs him for the final battle, you won’t even be able to be with him. When Remus grows too weak to break into the temple, you won’t see him again.

Just one day he will be gone from your life. He will linger for a little while in the world until- until he doesn’t.

And you will have failed him by not being strong enough to break the rules. By not being able to sneak out. If you leave against the rules, then you will never be allowed back in. You will lose Remus and Virgil. You fail one or you fail both. You lose one. Or you lose both. Without Remus, you don’t believe you will ever be worthy enough for Virgil. But without Virgil, you don’t believe you will ever be anything. How can you possibly choose between the two?

When will it stop? When will you find the peace you so desperately seek? 

\---

Here’s a secret - it will always tear you in two


End file.
